


A Little Spill

by Jay_Wells



Category: The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: F/F, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-08-29 15:35:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16746703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jay_Wells/pseuds/Jay_Wells
Summary: Det. Emma Langford has some troubles sleeping.





	A Little Spill

**A Little Spill**

Emma’s spine stood ramrod straight and her eyes locked on the door. It felt like, at any moment, it would open, and Murphy would be there, waiting for her. She was transported back to her childhood, where closing your eyes and counting your breaths kept the monsters away. It didn’t matter that Murphy was captured, or that she knew there was at least one Unit Bravo agent patrolling the town right now and had been for the past few months. Only the light of day would burn away his memory. 

Squeezing her eyes shut, she began to count.  _ One...two...three...four…five... _

 

...six...seven...eight...nine...ten.  _ When she opened her eyes, she was still in her bed with the comforter pulled around her head. Her throat was sore from screaming.  _

_ “Daddy?” she called out hoarsely. “Can I have some water?” _

_ There was no reply. She let out another shaky breath.  _

_ After a few agonizing minutes passed, she tried again. “Daddy?” _

_ She slid out of bed, her footie pajamas making a soft  _ pat, pat, pat, _ on the wooden floor. The door made a loud creak as she tentatively pulled it open and checked the halls for any sign of her father. There was a dark figure at the end of the hall. It wasn’t moving at all.  _

_ “Daddy?” No response. “Mummy?” _

_ The figure was right up on her in the blink of an eye. It was not father, nor was it her mother. No, it was a tall man with blood dribbling down his chin, and when he bared his teeth in an unfriendly smile, they were very sharp and glinted in the moonlight.  _

_ Emma’s breath turned quick and shallow as the man ran his cold, wet fingers down the curve of her jaw. She couldn’t even whimper, she was so scared. She felt the man’s sticky blood drying on her cheek and nearly gagged at the smell. It shook her out of her terror enough to say, “You’re bleeding.” _

_ The man seemed a little surprised. “You spoke to me?” _

_ “D-do you want a plaster?” she asked as politely as she could manage. “My mum gives me one whenever I get h-hurt. She kisses it better too, but I think that only works f-for mums.” _

_ Emma hadn’t even realized his nails had begun to dig into her skin until he relaxed his grip and she felt the relief. A few tears rolled down his cheeks. Almost to himself, he murmured, “I had a little girl like you once. I haven’t seen her in a very long time.” _

_ “I’m sorry, sir.” Emma wasn’t sure what it was, but something deep within her felt that the danger was past. The stranger wasn’t scary--he was sad. “I hope you see her again soon.” _

_ He blinked and turned away. “No, I don’t think I will. I’m sorry for the trouble I’ve caused you tonight.” He caressed her cheek again, gently this time. “Go to bed, child. Forget what you’ve seen. Your father is sleeping and your mother will be here in the morning and everything will be better, you’ll see.” _

_ And then he was gone.  _

_ Emma did not go back to bed. She walked down the hall toward her parent’s room.  _

Everything looked different at night. Her cheery apartment became cold and colorless without the sunlight shining through the little windows. Emma wrapped her arms around herself in a feeble attempt to stop the icy fear seeping down her spine. 

“Just a nightmare,” she murmured to herself. But was it? Rebecca had lied to her before, to protect her. She licked her lips and pulled out her phone. The glowing screen told her it was three in the morning. 

 

_ “This the Emergency Dispatch Service, what’s your emergency?” _

_ Emma struggled to find the words to explain what had happened. “A stranger was in my house. My daddy won’t wake up.” _

_ “Is your daddy breathing?” the dispatcher asked.  _

_ “Um, wait a minute,” Emma replied. “I don’t think so. He usually snores really loud, but he’s not. There’s a lot of blood on him. Is he going to be alright?” _

_ The man on the other end of the line ignored her question. “Alright, sweetie, do you know your address?” _

_ She didn’t, just that it was by the park. She said so. He said he was going to send an ambulance and that she had to stay on the phone. Help was coming.  _

 

Emma knew it wasn’t rational to be afraid. She knew there were measures in place to keep her safe. She  _ knew _ what the coroner and the police reports said. Most of all, she knew that this wouldn’t go away. 

After high school, she studied psychology and wrote her senior thesis on the effects of trauma. The whole incident was in her head. That was all it was, that had to be all it was. Her mother picked her up at the police station later that night and as the stranger promised, the blood and broken glass was gone. Her father’s body was gone too. He hadn’t even been home that night. There was a late call, and he’d left right after he tucked her into bed. 

But since Murphy… She wondered if Rebecca had kept other things hidden, if the Agency had fixed the broken window that woke her up. If they talked to the dispatcher and wiped his mind. She hadn’t thought it that way, even after learning the truth about the Agency, but since she’d brought it up to Unit Bravo, it wouldn’t leave.

She poured a glass of water and turned around. The glass shattered on the tiled floor and she screamed. Somebody was sitting at the table.

Heart thudding in her chest, she lowered her hands slowly. It was just her coat draped over the back of a kitchen chair. The door to her apartment swung open and Emma took a step back reaching behind herself for something, anything, and--it was Morgan. The woman scanned the room and raised an eyebrow at her. “I thought you were being murdered up here.”

Emma smiled weakly. “No, it was just a little spill.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't get this idea out of my head since @impeccably_stressed mentioned it on the forum. I took too long to finish it though, so...


End file.
